


bending you over the toilet, bending your reality

by baekkieony



Category: SHINee
Genre: Depressions, I'm so sorry, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, he deserved better, it got a lot more sad than i expected it to be, please don't hate me i just had to voice out my thoughts, please don't read this when you get triggered easily, this can't be survived by mental instable people, this is written from the depressions view not the depressed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-02-17 03:35:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13068264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baekkieony/pseuds/baekkieony
Summary: Death came too early, but also not fast enough.





	bending you over the toilet, bending your reality

**Author's Note:**

  * For [for all people who dealed and still deal with depressions](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=for+all+people+who+dealed+and+still+deal+with+depressions).



> okay, i'm really sorry that i wrote this, but it had to stream out, i had to voice it out. this is basically depressions winning the fight, it's also written out of the sight of depressions. Please don't jugde me, i think Jonghyun is happy now, happier than he was here and you have to respect him for what he was and not for his death; i think death was a release for him and if people aren't happy here they're allowed to go (in my opinion). but i think that maybe some people can relate to this, to depressions bringing you down and how this may could be the voice in your head telling you you're not perfect when you are perfect. Depressions are a thing that should be not taken lightly, it's a hard fight, every day, and it's a fight against yourself. Please respect everyone who had depressions or still are depressed, because they're withstanding a weight on their shoulders not able to imagine if you haven't experienced it yourself.

Push it further. Your throat isn't sore enough. Tell me when it hurts, because then I may will stop. Stop pushing you until you bleed, stabbing you until it hurts, choking you until you die, living out your last light.

It's my shadow that's haunting you at night, it's my light that's shining onto you at day, it's my voice you're hearing when your arms are cut open, it's my grip you're feeling when you try to fit your hands around your waist.

So why won't you follow my commands when I tell you to bend over this fucking toilet? Why are you never enough, why are you never _fucking_ good enough, why can't you be enough, why won't you be able to ever be enough?

It's so unsatisfying, watching you scream and bleed without getting better, why do you have to stand up and fight, why won't you lay in your bed and wait until you're starving to death? Why can't you make me satisfied, why did you have to work against me, why won't you accept that you're not supposed to have a happy life.

I don't grant, I don't fucking grant it you; you don't deserve it, don't deserve being happy. I'm so jealous, jealous that everybody respects you, that you were happy once while I never experienced being happy for one day in my whole existence. I don't grant you things I can't have; you're not allowed to have them in the way I can't.

You didn't work well enough, today, you never worked well enough, so don't tell me that it was good when it wasn't and you know it. Stop standing up, stop moving, stay on the ground, sinking in deeper and deeper into the see of lost dreams and broken futures, stay there and I asked you not to argue with me, did I?

Can't you be the person I want you to be for a second, can't you be everything society wants to see? Can't you make _me_ happy once; stop caring for yourself, please, you don't deserve it anyway. Accept that i'm better, faster, greater, stronger; accept that I'm perfect while you're not and you'll never be, but I won't tell you that, because I want to see you fighting and breaking together with your dreams. Your suffering makes me happy, your pain is my joy, your happiness is my death and when you jump down that roof from your school you didn't deserve to get in, I'm finally pleased with myself, because I live from your pain.

Stop running for time, stop catching the lights, stop listening to music, stop meeting your friends, stop thinking you'll make it until thirty, stop thinking you'll graduating high school soon, stop loving people, stop thinking you're skinny, stop being happy, stop loving yourself and fucking finally obey to bend over that toilet before I dare you to cut your legs and arms open.

I'm whispering in your ear, telling you all the things you'll never be, talking about all the things you never got to see when you finally swallow these death bringing pills down; I'm pleased to see you crashing down under the weight of the world pressing onto your shoulders, because I was the one who told you that you should be able to lift it alone.

You were safe where you used to be, but it's your fault; you didn't work enough, don't you remember? You didn't have all these popular friends, you were the nerdy one, with the ugly face and the ugly clothes and the reputation as a loser. I'm not the one to blame, right, I remember you being happy when we first met and I told you that not eating anything is a great way to starve yourself skinny. I remember you being grateful about me grabbing the blade and setting the first wine-red cut on your arm. I remember you being pleased by the sound of ripping skin and the feeling of cocaine rushing through your veins. I remember you thanking me for making you popular, so why are you screaming at me now, telling me I was the thing that destroyed everything? Wasn't I supposed to show you that life is a bitch?

Can't you finally break please, break for me, crack open all these wounds, about your parents never loving you, about being all alone, about being “special” and different, about not socializing, about failing, getting up again only to be pressed down onto the ground even more? Can't you rip them open, so I can strew some salt in them while your heart is skipping beats for me?

You're not beautiful, you're not skinny, not _enough_ , you can't make me happy by eating those strawberries, even if you want them so much. They called you the wild rose, but your name was supposed to be “failure”, you didn't deserve being compared with beautiful red wild roses when you were the dandelion under all these beauties, a pest.

Take these fucking pills, shove them down your throat until you choke and die, please; won't you fullfill my dreams since I asked so nicely for the fucking third time? And believe me, I won't ask a fourth time, because then I'm gonna do it myself.

They told me once that all beauty must die, but I think it's more like the dandelions under all these roses have to break and rot, because they have no petals to flower out. You're one of these loser in society, that failed but stood up again just to meet with a wall bigger than they could ever succeed to climb over.

You won't get some water, dry out and die, run against this wall and fall, shoot those bullets through your head and see your world falling apart and the only thing you can do is being frozen and just watch, because you have given up a hopeless fight against me you could never win alone. Now grab the knife, set the first cut and see yourself bleed, please. Stop fighting and give up, it's so easy, so _fucking easy._

So, can you bend over the toilet, please, and throw up all the things you have eaten today?

And then grab the knife and set the last cut?

I consider leaving a note, maybe with my name and a greeting like “It was a pleasure. Sincerely yours, Depression” on it, so I can get the credits for making you beautiful, but I'll leave it alone with _your_ last letter where you were trying to explain all these unexplainable things, written for all the news it's gonna be appear on (after all you were at least a bit famous, weren't you).

It was an unnecessary fight, wasn't it?

And I see you drowning, sinking in an ocean of blood, standing next to you and with the taste of your bile still on my lips, I smile.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_Never stop fighting. You're not alone and I can tell you that it's worth it._

 


End file.
